


Hurry, I'm Behind You!

by voiceless_terror



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archival Assistants Just Wanna Have Fun, But Mostly Fluff If I'm Being Honest, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Melanie and Jon have Sibling Energy, Special Appearance by Lonely Fog Martin, TMAHC Week, The Gang Plays Hide and Seek, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26102827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Jon and Melanie help with Daisy's hunger in an unconventional way.Alternatively titled 'The Gang Plays Hide and Seek!'
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893808
Comments: 44
Kudos: 237





	Hurry, I'm Behind You!

**Author's Note:**

> Day Two was Treating or Distracting From Injuries/Confession/Fear. So I came up with...this. It's more 'distracting your fear god to get rid of a headache' but I think it counts. Title taken from that creepy hide and seek song from Ready or Not.

_Listen to the quiet._

The howling in her ears was always there. Even when she was _good_ , even when she was with company. It tore at her mind, begging and pleading. _Prey_ , it whispered in her ear when she looked at Jon. _Weak,_ when Melanie was beside her, scrolling through her phone. Even Basira wasn’t immune, the monster within her craving a good chase. _That one will run quick._

  
  


Sure, her mind was able to silence these thoughts as they arose within her. Basira was right, to a point, to praise her will power. She didn’t _want_ to hurt these people, her tentative friends. But it wasn’t all strength of will that stayed her claws- it was the atrophy in her muscles, the weakness in her limbs. And it killed Daisy to know that were she a bit stronger, she likely wouldn’t be able to hold back. So the only thing it could reach was her mind- her body was useless to the hunt in this way.

  
  


And she was useless to her friends; she couldn’t protect them. _Dead weight_. Basira hit the nail on the head. The weight of the Buried seemed both a blessing and a curse.

  
  


So she spent most of her days battling a migraine, standing beside Jon as he recorded statements or Melanie as she lazed in her chair, scrolling through memes and different social media. At least Jon tolerated _The Archers_ , though he made snide comments at the end of every episode. Melanie was currently fixated on a _Ghost Hunt UK_ spin-off, which she both derided and watched religiously. Daisy helped her brainstorm creative insults to send anonymously, and Melanie was quickly becoming a rather famous internet troll. The mundanity of these tasks fed the quiet, but not the pain or the need. 

  
  


Today was not one of her best days. Basira was out chasing her ‘intel,’ so the three of them were situated in the break room. Jon was picking at a piece of toast long gone cold, Melanie muttering to herself as she typed viciously on her phone, and Daisy with her head pillowed in her arms, her mind filled with a litany of urges she was incapable of acting on. She wanted to wallow alone, but her eight months of solitude begged to differ. 

  
  


“This is terrible,” Melanie suddenly announced. Daisy started and lifted her head. “Let’s get drinks. I can’t watch you and your sad bread any longer.” Jon made a noise of offense, but ceased his bread crimes. He looked to Daisy, clearly waiting for her to make a decision. 

  
  


She shook her head, sad to disappoint. “Bad day for that. Head isn’t on right. Think it’ll just make it worse.” Daisy didn’t say her other reasons, mainly regarding her incapacity to deal with the two of them at a bar. Daisy could hold her liquor, years of the police force had made sure of that. And while Melanie had a similar tolerance, she got rather snippy and angry if she indulged too much, even without the bullet to channel her rage. Jon was a lightweight, and tended to get weepy within two beers. She didn’t have the patience to comfort anyone, or hold Melanie back from a vicious tirade. Emotional labor was not her forte in the best of circumstances. 

  
  


Melanie groaned and tipped dangerously back in her chair. “Ugh, it’s the _perfect_ day for it too. Nice weather, Jon’s already had a snack.” Another offended noise from the Archivist. “I’m fucking _bored_.” 

  
  


“Tired of sending hate mail to _Hunting Ghosts in the United Kingdom_ , then?” Jon snarked, and Melanie slammed her chair back down and fixed him with a glare.

  
  


“It’s called _anon hate_ , Grandpa Sims. And I’m fucking _great_ at it.” Jon sniffed in response, tearing his toast into tinier pieces. 

  
  


“I think they know it’s you, at this point. _“You’re nothing without me”_ isn’t exactly what I’d call subtle.” 

  
  


“Just because I’m in therapy doesn’t mean I won’t slap you,” Melanie pointed a threatening finger in his direction that Jon ignored. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten “ _Melanie King is a hack and an affront to the study of the supernatural.”_ It may have been two years ago, but a King remembers.”

  
  


“I stand by my words.”

  
  


“Sad though, that you still watched every single one of our videos-”

  
  


“Not _every single one-_ ”

  
  


“ _Shut up!”_

  
  


The exclamation Daisy bit out startled them both as they shared a guilty glance. Melanie lowered her hands and Jon fidgeted with his hands. She instantly regretted her outburst; Jon and Melanie so rarely got to talk these days, and even their bickering was an improvement on the tense silence of before. But her head was pounding, and she didn’t trust herself to not say anything worse if the argument went on any longer.

  
  


“Sorry,” Jon whispered, and the guilt increased ten-fold. _Damn it._ She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get a word out, Melanie had slammed her hand against the table. She had a smirk on her face and a manic glint in her eye, and Daisy didn’t trust her one bit.

  
  


“Hang on,” she said slowly, the smirk growing into a feral grin. “I’ve got the _perfect_ idea.”

  
  


“You’re insane,” Jon barked out a laugh in disbelief. “We _can’t_.”

  
  


“Stop knowing my shit, Jon,” she snarled in his direction, before turning back to Daisy and smiling sweetly. _Christ, what now._ “I’ve got a bit of a proposal for you...would you like to play a game?”

  
  


“That’s not at all foreboding,” Jon, sarcastic as always.

  
  


“What are you on about?” Daisy inquired, suspicious of the playful look Melanie sent her way. “Have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

  
  


“I think you’ll love it,” Melanie replied, surprisingly serious. “I kind of get it- the way you’re feeling, that is. It’s not the same, but it... _grates_ on you, doesn’t it?” Daisy remained silent, willing her to continue. “The call. The need. The _blood_.” She stiffened, feeling exposed. “We could give you a bit of an outlet for that. Low stakes, of course. But maybe it could help?”

  
  


Jon glanced nervously between the two of them, and Daisy had an idea of where this was heading. 

  
  


“A little _Hide and Seek_ never hurt anyone!” Melanie’s smile was genuine, as was Jon’s groan as he bit out “I don’t think I’ve ever played that in my life.”

  
  


“Because you’re boring.”

  
  


“And you’re _childish_.”

  
  


“Better than being a geriatric-”

  
  


“Alright,” Daisy cut into their bickering for the second time. “Sounds like fun.”

  
  


“W-wait, really?” Melanie stuttered and Jon’s eyes widened. The twin looks of surprise made her laugh. Daisy found she liked laughing.

  
  


“Were you not serious?” She had instantly dismissed the idea, but now she could feel her mind settle at even the juvenile game. _Hunt. Find. Chase._ The growl turned into a purr, and the throbbing in her temples eased. _Maybe this could help?_ “It’s not like I can hurt you, in this condition.” She gestured down to her thin, atrophied legs. “And I don’t _actually_ want to hurt you. But I think…” _Feed your God, or it Feeds on You._ “I think it would like that. I would like that. Just for a bit of...relief.” She hoped they weren’t hesitating out of fear instead of surprise. She found herself beginning to doubt the sincerity of the request, and began to ramble. “We don’t have to...if that was a joke. I don’t- I’m not _like_ that anymore. I won’t give in-”

  
  


“Just a little snack,” Jon nodded, studying her with interest. “I understand.” _Of course he does._

  
  


“So wait, you’ll play too?” Melanie began to laugh. “I can’t fucking believe it. Someone call the press.”

  
  


“You should count to 100, though,” Jon continued. “I’m not very fast these days. That’s how you’re supposed to do it, right?” He looked to Melanie for reassurance, and she nodded.

  
  


“I’m not that fast either,” Daisy pointed out. “Though I guess I’ll still have a bit of an advantage.”

  
  


“You’ll be alright alone then?” Melanie asked. It was true, she hadn’t really spent any period of time out of the sight of her coworkers. But the thrill of a possible Hunt weighed out the effects of the Buried for the time being, and she could feel herself growing more confident and she favored her with a grin.

  
  


“I’ve always been a great solo act.”

  
  


Melanie cackled and Daisy felt an unfamiliar warmth settle in her chest. Jon slowly rose from his seat, a hesitant smile on his face. “I guess you could use my office to er, count in?”

  
  


“Good idea, Sims. First one you’ve had yet. Go on, then.”

  
  


Daisy sauntered from the room, a feline-like grace settling in her limbs. _God_ that felt good. She smiled to herself as she heard Jon and Melanie whisper behind her.

  
  


“Uh-oh-”

  
  


“She’ll be fine,” Jon reassured her. “But I think we better get moving-”

  
  


“ _Fuck, okay_ -”

  
  


Daisy sunk down into Jon’s desk chair, propping her feet up on his desk. For the first time in a very long while, she savored the quiet hum of blood through her veins. And began to count. 

  
  


Her mind singled on the voices outside, stumbling clumsily as they hurried out of the Archive. 

  
  


_You’re going to have to do better than that._

  
  


A minute passed. _So close._

  
  


_...99, 100._

  
  


Her eyes flew open and she emitted a low growl.

  
  


_The hunt was on._

  
  


* * *

Jon cursed as his hand caught on yet another splinter. This wasn’t one of his better ideas.

  
  


As he’d stumbled out of the archives, he immediately separated from Melanie and started sprinting up the stairs, dodging other staff members who by now had grown used to the antics of the archive. He’d been helpfully informed by forces beyond him that the old wardrobe on the third floor was objectively, a great hiding spot. Completely spook-less, but unfortunately filled with musty, forgotten coats and broken pieces of wood. But Jon committed to his choice, and the next three hours of his life that would be spent picking splinters out of his hand. 

  
  


He had to admit, it was a nice change of pace from moping in his office and recording statements. And Daisy did seem to be enthused by the idea. The cramped closet was a small price to pay for making at least one person smile in this den of misery. He tried not to think about the proximity of the wardrobe to Elias’s office, where he was sure Martin was currently occupying. _He doesn’t want to see you. Trust him._ This was getting harder by the day. He hoped Peter Lukas hadn’t taken up skulking around in closets. _That would be just my luck_.

  
  


_Someone’s coming_. A pleasant hum from his patron and he froze, trying not to make a sound.

  
  


_Who is it?_ No answer. _Useless, thanks._

  
  


The footsteps grew closer, and Jon’s heart hammered in his chest in anticipation. It _was_ sort of fun. He jumped as the closet door crept closer, and cursed as his head hit a shelf. _Caught already!_ The leg that had been stepping into the wardrobe paused. “Jon?”

  
  


“...Melanie? Get out!” He shoved at her leg to no avail. “This is my spot! I was here first!”

  
  


“Fuck off, it’s the best spot here.” She kept moving in, easily countering his flailing limbs. “Besides Artefact Storage. But I thought it could get a little dicey in there.”

  
  


“That doesn’t mean you can steal my _spot!_ ” he whispered furiously, hissing as an elbow jabbed him in the ribs (or where they used to be). Melanie ignored him and gingerly shut the door. “I’m going to start yelling if you don’t-”

  
  


“Yeah, no you won’t,” Melanie snorted. “Admit it, you’re a bit scared of Daisy. Now shut up, or she’ll find us in no time.”

  
  


He grumbled, resigned to his situation. This _was_ the best hiding spot, and they did both fit. Not comfortably, though. Both he and Melanie were lanky and sharp, so every move resulted in an injury and a stifled curse. They stayed still for as long as possible and Jon’s legs were beginning to cramp.

  
  


Ten minutes. Nothing.

  
  


“Wow, this really _is_ a good-” “ _Shhh!_ Do you hear that?”

  
  


Light footsteps were coming up the corridor at an unhurried pace, almost leisurely. _Probably staff_ , Jon thought. _Maybe Martin?_ No, he wouldn’t make a sound. Not anymore.

  
  


A whistle. _Oh no._ Jon recognized that tune. He let out an involuntary noise, and Melanie slapped a hand over his mouth.

  
  


The footsteps paused, then continued. Slowly, _mockingly_. Even Melanie seemed afraid, her breath strangled in her throat. 

  
  


_Closer. Closer._ The noise stopped in front of the wardrobe, and time seemed to slow as no noise came for several moments. And then, a growl.

  
  


“ _Come out, come out, wherever you are…”_ The singsong tones did nothing to disguise Daisy’s voice, and Jon’s fear reached a crescendo as Melanie’s hand shook and-

  
  


“ _Found you_.” The door flew open, and Melanie and Jon shrieked in tandem, limbs akimbo as they simultaneously grabbed at each other and tried to avoid the hunter in front of them.

Daisy hadn’t even spoken particularly loud as she reveled in the chaotic scene before her. She didn’t move- they seemed to be inflicting enough damage without her involvement. The blood sang in her veins at the fear in their eyes. _The game’s not over. Not yet._

  
  


Jon and Melanie noticed that she hadn’t moved, and ceased their flailing. Daisy gave them a nasty grin as she stepped away, hands behind her back. She had time.

  
  


“Tell you what,” she spoke casually. “I’ll give you a minute head’s start to run the fuck off. Go on!” She gestured down the hallway pleasantly, as if she were giving a tour. The two didn’t move, staring at her with wide eyes. She growled again. “ _I_ _’m not done yet._ ”

  
  


With another ear-piercing shriek, they fell out of the closet, untangling their legs and running off down the hallway, Melanie breathless with both laughter and fear.

  
  


Daisy shut the doors to the closet, sensing a presence behind her that was listening in.

  
  


“You’re really missing out,” she said in that same sing-song voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt them...a lot.” She smirked, and began to whistle as she made her way back down the hallway.

  
  


_A little fear of God won’t hurt them_. _Though I suppose in this case, it’s fear of_ me. 

  
  


* * *

A few bruises and splinters later, they’d ended up at the bar anyway.

  
  


“I’d love a drink,” Daisy had panted from the ground, her arms entangled with Jon’s legs after a flying tackle gone wrong. “Headache’s all cleared up!” Melanie gave a thumbs up as she snapped a photo for posterity, while Jon wheezed in affirmation. 

  
  


Three drinks in at their favorite dive and Melanie had already started in on the latest _Hunting Ghosts_ video. Jon was half asleep, head precariously balanced on one arm. And Daisy felt good, for the first time in months. Weary, but satisfied. Content, even.

  
  


“It’s like they don’t even know how to _edit_ , it’s so sad- hold on, just got an email from...Martin?” She paused as Jon’s head perked up enough to slur the name back at her. “Ha! Oh man, read this-”

  
  


Daisy plucked the phone from her fingers and read aloud. “‘A friendly reminder that horseplay is not permitted in the halls of the Magnus Institute in order to maintain a safe and professional work environment.’ Oh bugger off.”

  
  


Jon let out a mournful wail and pillowed his head in his arms as Daisy pat his back. “I was gonna ask ‘im to play with us. Why doesn’ he want t’play with us?”

  
  


Melanie snorted, knocking back the last of her drink. “So same time tomorrow, then?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is one hundred percent canon and absolutely happened, you may quote me on this. And yes, if I had Beholding Powers I would use them to cheat in every single game.
> 
> Would love to see your comments on this one! Had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you :)


End file.
